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heather Aug 2013
if you never stop questioning what you're told
what you're shown
what you're guaranteed
what you're spoon-fed by the hand of
stingy
swinish
shrewd and sly
businessmen
well that's half the battle.

when you first encounter the urge to
bite that hand
congratulations
you're now a dangerous person.

you're now learning how to think for yourself
and you're going to get angry
and you're going to be butthurt
and they don't like that.
heather Aug 2013
he says i look at him as if i don't give a ****
i say he looks at me as if i have the answers
heather Aug 2013
her insecurities are little girls wrapped in ribbons and frilly dresses and fighting for attention
   and her confidence kisses each one goodnight every night and never forgets.

her fears are stubborn old men drunk on nostalgia and whiskey and longing for youth
   and her faith is the loyal friend that never fails to call at just the right time.
heather Aug 2013
While I'm sleeping, my shadow dances.
She creeps out from under me, cautiously at first, careful not to wake me.
Only when she is confident in her freedom does she begin to waltz over the flowers of my old wallpaper.
Hauntingly, she sings the songs that I have never been able to find the words for,
she sings of the things that I have been afraid to say.
In what I lack, she gains.
The manifestation of my doubts and fears, she is able to make them into something beautiful,
something fleeting but tangible.
Nothing less than graceful, she carelessly glides around the room,
flawlessly leaping and twirling.
Sympathetic of the flesh that weighs me down,
but also envious of my existence.
For she is just my shadow,
and if I'm lucky, I can catch her out of the corner of my eye,
slipping back into her rightful place,
forever condemned to be just that--
a shadow.
heather Aug 2013
verbal warfare,
the cruelest kind.
sickly syllables
pierce the skin with every beat.
sentences strung together with an intangible toxin,
the deadliest of weapons.

two opponents,
spewing words
spawned from the unholiest of places.
their only goal to cut the other down.
to see whose poison is more potent.
who can strike the strongest blow.

it's the kamikaze pilot
versus
the suicide bomber.
you can't have verbal warfare
without letting your own ugly show.
**** your kindness.
suffocate your sympathy.
show no mercy.

after all,
there's no going back.
heather Aug 2013
I stole a peek inside today,
and what peered back left me in dismay.

I myself, I must betray,
today I shot myself, and walked away.
heather Aug 2013
he was immersed in the hum-drum of everyday life,
his Mondays bleeding into his Tuesdays, just as it had for fifty-five years.
protected by his shining armor of ignorance,
he was untouchable.
what he didn't know, couldn't hurt him,
and what he did know, taught him that he didn't desire to know anymore.
he liked to sit behind his desk, and drink his coffee,
and read what he was told to read and type what he was told to type.
and every night, he would sit at the same bar,
quietly drinking his glass of Jack and Coke.
what he never noticed, however,
was that as his days bled, so did he.
and this is how a man died,
while his heart still beat to that familiar hum-drum.

— The End —